Wishing Stone
by PrincessIxi
Summary: Throw a stone and make a wish. Young!Asch past


**Title **Wishing Stone

**Rating **PG-13

**Category **Tales of the Abyss

**Paring **/

**Author's Note **Young!Asch's past. Don't place money on accuracy

**Disclaimer **Hm. Not mine XD funny that

* * *

Everything is larger than he is. The walls that slope up to peeked roofs, the iron gates and ivy that clings to the walls outside. Like imprisonment. Asch _knows _he's imprisoned, even though he came here by free will, without complaint, because were else was he to go? It seems very stupid to go back into the hands of the man who has done this to him in the first place, but it seems even stupider to try and go back home.

Asch can visualise it, if he shuts his eyes in bed, or glances dazedly out a turret window in the middle of a history lesson, and when he opens them again, he dressed in blood stained clothes and travellers cloak, watching his mother and father, servant and fiancé crowed around a boy with vibrant hair. Instead of watching from a distance like it plays out in his memories, his dream self is pushed forwards, running up to them and calling desperately- _it's me, it's _me_, why can't you tell it's me?!_

His servant gives him an awfully blank look, while the girl shoots him a terrified one, clinging to the Duchesses dress hem for protection. His father stands, and deflects him back with his sword sheath, like he's a dirty rodent that needs to be swept away by a broom. Dismayed, Asch doesn't understand why they just can't _see_. And now, the boy with the same short red hair, lethal body shape and mocking green eyes looms over him, pushing him backwards and laughing with _his _mouth.

_Sorry, Luke. You're worthless. _Worthless._ So I'm going to take your life, because nobody's going to miss you while they have me, the new, kind, and obedient, _better_ Luke. But I promise to take good care of everyone while you're gone_

As he's pushed for a third time by this evil, disgusting carbon copy of himself, his chins usually hits his study desk, or he wakes up crying and thrashing until he falls out of his bed. This time it's the unfortunate latter. Small mercies find him waking with a startled jump and shivering in his own sweat and tangled sheets. Struggling for a moment, Asch manages to sit up, brushing his fallen fringe out of his tired eyes and looks wistfully around the room for the vassal that's not there, and hasn't _been _there for months now.

Having Guy made his life just that bit easier, and now his absences grows that fact is becoming more and more obvious. It was really small and petty things. Like getting him up in the mornings to train. Opening the curtains and letting in the dreaded sunlight pool on his exposed face, yanking the covers off him or if Guy had been feeling especially mean he would wet his hands and shove them down Asch's back or neck.

Or whenever he would have nightmares like this, Asch would scamper out of bed and into the next room and expect some form of comfort from the older boy. Sometimes he wouldn't even need to get out of bed, because his headboard was loose and would bang against the wall whenever he moved violently about, so it would alert Guy before Asch would even wake up himself.

If Asch ever fell asleep at his desk, late at night, books all around him and ink splattered on his face, Guy would put a blanket around him, or haul him back to his room with small complaints of _what have you been eating lately, kiddo? _

And anytime he needed someone to just be there, Guy would just appear and answer his numerous questions , play with him, bandage him up or just talk.

Now, of course, this isn't the case. He is expected to get up on time, do all his studies, and don't even _think _about making friendly contact with the other residence. With a grumble, Asch hops out of bed, not particularly wanting to go back to sleep for fear of revisiting the plaguing nightmare. The only good thing now is how much freedom he has, and power _behind_ the freedom, even though Asch still feels the restrictive grasp around his neck no matter what he's allow do to.

Pushing the window open, Asch is ready for the two story drop to springy grass, indicating that he has done this more than once. Outside there really isn't too much to look at. Apart from a square of greenery, the rest is boring courtyard and shed with equipment and armour. Even the sky is obscured by the turrets and dark clouds moving across the heavens. Disheartened, Asch lies back on the grass, ripping up tuffs for something to do. Something hard spikes under his nail, and he rolls over to inspect the annoyance. It's a small white pebble, probably dropped off from under a soldier's shoe.

_It's a wishing stone_

For some reason, Guy grins when he tells him this, holding the curiously flat rock out for Asch to see. He'll admit- he's never seen a rock that smooth before. But the colour is dull, and it's streaked with dirt, so Asch isn't very interested so turns his nose up.

_It's an ordinary rock _he ruins the moment, feeling too old for Guy to be telling him tall tales. _It's like saying this leaf will make you run faster _he spins the five pronged leaf under Guy's nose, having picked it up from the tree he's lounging under in the palace gardens.

Guy sighs exasperatedly- like Asch is _completely _missing the point. _I know, Luke. But you see- when people give up, they need something to hold onto. Like a physical thing, not just hope or faith. So when you tell a person _this rock will grant you help in times of trouble _they'll hold onto it, and believe that might just happen_

_. . I suppose that makes sense. But why are you even telling me this? _

_Because one day you might just need that little bit of knowledge _

He's always wondered why Guy had said that. A while ago Van had told him about what had happened to Guy's family, and briefly thought that might have been why he'd brought up the subject of 'giving up.' It's funny. He doesn't particularly hold any kind of grudge against Guy for wanting to kill him, only pity and sadness on both their behalves. Sadness of thinking _why_. Should I have been a better friend, or tried to get to know him better, then revalation of; no I _am _a bad friend, and bad person for him not trusting me enough or being able to open up to me or making him change his mind about taking revenge. And now with some ironic twist of fate, Guy has gotten what he'd wanted, only it was Asch who was suffering in a different way. He is miserable and lonely, heart swelling in anger and hatred every day.

Blankly, Asch flips the stone over and over his fingers, feeling the odd smoothness and perfection of it.

_It's a wishing stone_

"I hate you! I don't need anyone!" he yells, throwing the stone, hearing, with some satisfaction, it bounce twice off the concrete, and quickly buries he head into the suddenly wet grass even though the grass grasped between his fingers is bone dry. No. He does not hate Guy for wanting to kill him. He hates him in a different way. As well as his entire family- his stupid _blind_ family who can't tell a real person from a fake one. . . his clone. His _replica_. It makes him want to physically throw up just at the thought of someone else wearing his face and his life.

_You're _worthless._ A failure. Why else would they make a duplicate of you? They want to try again, so this time, the real Luke doesn't screw up_

_Really?_ Even though the monologue is in his head. . . does everyone really think that? He acts like every other kid, being a brat, not eating his vegetables, not doing enough study- is that reason enough to wipe 'Luke's' existence off the face of the earth? Maybe it is.

Smiling slightly, Asch turns back over, lifts a hand and lets the grass fly out of it. A few blades stick to his sweaty palm. _I'm a blade of grass. I start off weak before I get stronger_. He decides, brushing them away and fingering his hair back into place.

Getting back up and thinking of a way to get back inside, the white pebble catches his eye. It lies quietly on the black courtyard, and its innocence of just _lying_ there makes him look away. He closes his eyes as he reaches for the thick vines that crawl up to his bedroom window.

As he opens them, he's in the palace courtyard again. This time quite alone.

* * *

END


End file.
